


half-baked (declarations of love)

by amaranthskies



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby - Freeform, F/F, Fluff, blake is a bisexual disaster, everyone beware the magical powers of brownies, that's literally it. a thousand pounds of fluff in 1.8k words, yang is terrible with expiration dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranthskies/pseuds/amaranthskies
Summary: Yang asks Blake to bake brownies with her; Blake realizes she's in love.





	half-baked (declarations of love)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is literally brownie batter when you add twice the recommended amount of sugar. sweet, cavity-inducing fluff is ahead. you have been warned.

_ half-baked (declarations of love) _

 

Blake’s standing in the kitchen. She’s watching Yang poke around in the cabinet, muttering something about not buying chocolate chips when she had the chance. Blake looks around the kitchen and sees a wide array of ingredients strewn across the countertops, and wonders what her best friend doing.

She’s not one to keep her opinions quiet; Blake has too many posters from countless rallies shoved in the back corner of the closet for that to be true. However, she sometimes knows that what Yang is up to is best left unsaid, ever since the time they were seven and she walked in on Yang attempting to build a motorcycle from scratch using duct tape, their shared red wagon, and a bottle of Coke for, as Yang stated before, “fuel”.

“What are you doing?” Blake asked, picking up a stained bag of flour and squinting at the ingredients, trying to find the expiration date. It’s a week away and she decides that’s good enough for whatever Yang’s trying to make, and puts it back down.

Yang turns, grinning widely at Blake. Blake feels her heart drop to her knees in that brief moment and she wonders why - Yang’s wearing the most hideous pink apron she’s ever seen, all patchy and rough with KISS THE COOK printed on it in an obnoxiously large font, her hair is tangled and messy and she’s barefoot and in sweats, obviously having rolled out of bed ten minutes ago despite it being noon. 

She’s far from perfect in that moment but Blake thinks,  _ she’s beautiful  _ \- then Yang’s grin falters briefly and Blake realizes she’s staring and the moment fades away, dropping to the floor nearly like the carton of milk balanced in Yang’s free hand.

“Blake,” Yang said solemnly, passing Blake the milk. Blake checks the expiration date and wrinkles her nose - one day away, cutting it close. “We are going to do something nobody in this household has ever done before.”

“What?” Blake shuffles through the food sorted on the counter, carefully sorting them. A bag of sugar is near toppling into the sink and she grabs it, moves it to a clear spot. Something in her mind is itching, a slight whisper - unrecognizable, and she sorts through the feeling like she did with the ingredients. “Keep the house clean for a week? Declare a war on broccoli?”

“No,” Yang said thoughtfully, “Although Ruby may have done that last one.” She yanks open the cupboard doors and thrusts a bowl at Blake, who catches it easily. “We’re going to bake brownies.”

“Oh no,” Blake says weakly, visions of a wrecked kitchen and the microwave on fire flashing before her eyes, sirens wailing in her ears. Briefly, that drowns out the odd recognition in her mind.

Her protest is utterly swamped by Yang’s enthusiasm, which shuts her up. “Come on,” Yang said cheerily, tossing an apron towards Blake - slightly more fashionable, black and yellow plaid - and grabbing the carton of milk. “We don’t have any chocolate chips but we can start stirring the first ingredients together.”

She turned and the noon sunlight hit her face, turned the edges of Yang’s hair to gold, and the realization hits Blake like someone forcefully yanking the blinds away from the windowsill, letting the light punch her in the face and plow through her like a motorcycle through traffic.  _ Oh,  _ she thinks distantly,  _ I know that feeling. _

Blake can’t pinpoint the moment when she fell, but she can definitely place the moment she realized she was in  _ love  _ with Yang.

Yang is humming an old song, blissfully unaware of Blake’s internal struggle. Blake’s still standing by the counter, clutching a pack of baking soda - when had she picked that up, in the first place? - and she cleared her throat.

Yang half-turned, grinned at Blake, and it punches its way through Blake’s gut - she’s seen that look a thousand times before, but she’d never recognized how truly  _ gone  _ she was for that smile - and asked, “Could you pass me the eggs?”

Blake nodded and pushed the carton towards Yang, who continued humming, soft and thoughtful. She switched songs, moving to a rough rendition of some pop song she’d heard on the radio a few weeks ago.

She tips the pack of baking soda into a bowl, mixes it with the flour and a packet of cocoa powder - Blake doesn’t even bother checking the expiration date on  _ that  _ one - and stirs it together with a spoon.

Blake turns it over in her mind, slowly sorting through her memories - Yang and Blake, five years old, wearing tin buckets on their heads and red blankets as capes, crashing through the woods and brandishing sticks at imaginary monsters, Yang and Blake, giggling under a blanket fort at ten years old, talking about how the stars connected and maybe how they’d see them, Yang and Blake, sixteen and singing together for a brief song, unable to stop laughing, Yang and Blake, living together in a flat with Ruby and Weiss down the hall, Yang and Blake -

_ Oh my god,  _ Blake thinks distantly,  _ I’m so done. _

“Hey?” Yang asked, concerned - she taps Blake’s shoulder and reached to swipe an egg. “You’ve been stirring that for five minutes straight while glaring at the microwave, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Blake replied - she reached for the sugar and poured two cups in. “I’m still not sure where we can get chocolate chips.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Yang grinned. “Hey, can you add extra sugar?”

Blake sighed but tipped in an extra half cup - she may be Yang’s conscience when it comes to sugary foods - but she just figured out she’s grossly in love with her best friend, so she’s being lenient this time.

She shoves the butter into the microwave, setting it for a minute and letting it heat. Blake’s confidence is wavering with each egg Yang cracks, and by the time Yang drops the remnants of the third cracked shell into the trash, she blurts out, “I’m in love with you.”

Blake dimly hears the fourth egg falling from Yang’s fingers and splattering on the floor, effectively shattering the moment, and she fixes her gaze on the mix as she pours the butter into the mix, stirring steadily. Yang curses in the background, and there’s some shuffling, and then Blake can feel Yang watching her and she sets down her spoon and clears her throat awkwardly.

“I think Ruby has some chocolate chips hidden under your bed,” she said lamely, edging out of the kitchen, “So, I - uh - I’m going to go get them.”

She all but skids out of the kitchen and heads to Yang’s room, which is strewn with books and large sweaters - she reached under the bed and her fingers brushed the bag she’d seen Ruby shove under Yang’s bed yesterday - with a guilty feeling, she tugged it out and made a mental note to drop some Doritos off at Ruby’s for payback - and headed back to the kitchen after a few minutes of idling.

Blake wasn’t sure  _ why  _ she’d just blurted it out like that - she hadn’t thought it through, but Blake knows that if she hadn’t said anything she would’ve pined after Yang for years and never told her, and Yang’s her best friend - she’s going to tell her everything, right?

Yang’s finishing pouring the ingredients together - with another guilty jump, Blake saw a few eggshell shards on the floor that Yang forgot to pick up - she dumped the bag on the counter and bent down to gather the little bits into her hand.

Blake drops them into the trash, and by then Yang’s already stirring the mix and shoving the whole mess in the oven, and Yang cleared her throat and said, her voice the tiniest bit strangled, “We gotta wait for thirty minutes until the whole thing is ready.”

“I’ll set a timer.” Blake reached across the counter and thumbed at her phone, heard Yang move into the connecting living room and turn on the TV, and she headed back towards where her friend was, curled on the couch,  _ Beauty and the Beast  _ crooning from the screen.

Blake sits next to Yang, handing her a blanket and turns up the volume, and she can almost ignore everything that happened in the past ten minutes, but Yang coughs slightly and asks, “How long?”

“What?” Blake asks, confused. She reaches for the remote to pause the TV but Yang catches her hand, stops her mid-motion, forcing Blake to meet her eyes. Yang’s eyes were wide - every bit of attention focused on Blake, mouth half-open, and Blake unconsciously swallowed in a throat gone dry.

“How long?” Yang repeated, voice low and insistent. “How long did you know?”

Blake shrugged, feeling warm and a bit tentative. “Ten minutes ago,” she replied, “But I think I fell long before that.”

Yang bit her lip and her eyes were suspiciously bright - Blake turned away, dropping her gaze to the floor, bracing for the soft rejection that she was sure Yang was going to murmur -  _ sorry, Blake, but you’re my best friend and I don’t want anything more  _ \- when Yang tilted Blake’s chin up and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

If Blake’s heart had dropped to her knees before, this time it crashed to the ground, sucking the air from her lungs - she was dimly aware of her nodding, then Yang leaned in and  _ oh  _ \- this is what she’d been missing, Yang kissing her softly and gently, stirring Blake’s insides with slow waves of heat, sweet in the back of her throat.

Blake gasped a little when Yang pulled back, just the tiniest bit. “Why -”

“Me too,” Yang murmured back, thick and soft. “For years.”

Blake exhaled a little bit and Yang beamed, pulling her close again, feathering kisses along her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, until Blake was unable to stop her laughter from spilling out, clinging to Yang’s shoulders, curling her fingers in the tangle of gold curls.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, Blake’s phone rings, the timer announcing the completion of their brownies. Yang groans and Blake smiles, pulls away - she might have discovered kissing Yang is her favorite hobby, sport, and pastime - but she has standards, she’s not going to let their brownies burn; she spent a good half hour of her life on those things and they’re too poor to buy ingredients for another batch.

She tugged Yang towards the kitchen, and they’re giggling, and Blake nearly drops the pan when Yang leans down to tuck her arms around Blake’s waist, but they’re finally cooling on the stove and Blake’s somehow sitting on the counter with Yang leaning close in front of her.

“I love you,” Blake murmurs, and she can’t stop saying it, and Yang repeats it back to her; they’re two broken records somehow in sync with each other, pulsing on the same heartbeat.

“We’re definitely making brownies again,” Yang says, and Blake laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> i took a break from finishing up the second chapter of [i'm going to make this place your home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16887882/chapters/39665160) to scribble down 1.8k words of bumbleby fluff. thank you for indulging me!
> 
> my tumblr is [here](https://amaranthskies-writes.tumblr.com). pay me a visit!!


End file.
